


The Four Sundays of Advent

by ixia_ixora



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, M/M, Marriage Proposal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:42:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28313994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ixia_ixora/pseuds/ixia_ixora
Summary: John and Sherlock every Sunday in December.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Comments: 8
Kudos: 30
Collections: 2020 New Years Fic Exchange





	The Four Sundays of Advent

**Author's Note:**

  * For [VeeTheRee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/VeeTheRee/gifts).



> Merry Christmas VeeTheRee! Hope you have an amazing day, and that you'll like this fic! Thanks for the promtps, it was really fun to write

i

The kitchen was quiet, as John silently stepped around making tea without waking Sherlock. He turned on the kettle and found two mugs from the cabinet over his head. From inside their room John heard Sherlock snoring softly. He smiled to himself and let out a content sigh. While waiting for the kettle he went into the living room and started to stack some logs into the fireplace before getting some old newspapers and the matches. December came horrifyingly fast and it was chilly in the flat every morning. As the water came to a boil and the fire had been started John heard the sound of Sherlock’s mobile. The sound stopped before a loud thump echoed into the hallway. 

“Sherlock?” John called out walking back into their bedroom. On the floor beside their bed lay Sherlock’s long body, legs wrapped in a sheet, face down. The messy dark hair was lifted and blue eyes shone up towards him.

“We got a case.”

  
  


“So tell, what’s the case?” John leaned back into the cab seat and looked fondly at Sherlock, waiting for him to ramble on about their new case. Sherlock smirked.

“A young woman was found dead in a stranger’s flat, the front door locked and no signs of forced entry. She has no close relatives here in London according to Lestrade.” Sherlock grinned at John and took his hand.

“Lucky you getting early Christmas gifts,” John said and squeezed Sherlock’s hand.

The cab pulled over by the pavement and John and Sherlock got off. The house was small and Sherlock had to bow his head when he entered. The tiny apartment was dark, the sunlight not yet coming through the window. They followed a police officer through the kitchen, Sherlock turning his head, analyzing, sorting data, and into the bedroom. By the only sitting chair lay a dead woman on the floor, her blouse open to reveal a white lazy bra. Sherlock whipped out his magnifying glass and passed John a pair of medical gloves. Sherlock knelt by one side of the body, John on the other side. Carefully John examined the body, looking for the death cause, while Sherlock looked for other clues. Together, they worked in sync, going over the whole body before standing up at the same time. As John took off his gloves Sherlock scoured the bookshelves. He turned back to Lestrade and said, “Find out about the person that lives here.” 

Lestrade looked at John confused but John just shrugged his shoulders and threw his gloves in the bin. Lestrade wrote it down in his notebook.

“So, what is the cause of death?” Lestrade asked carefully. He had his pen on the paper, ready to write down everything Sherlock said. John watched Sherlock take a look at the box of bees that laid on the lower shelf. Sherlock crouched down a bit and looked at the bees through the glass. He turned, his curls bouncing, and put his hands in the pockets of his coat.

“Check her medical records,” Sherlock answered. “She’s probably allergic to bees.”

Lestrade noted it in his book and looked up, raising his eyebrows, waiting for more.

“And find out about who lives here and their connection to the victim.”

With that Sherlock strode out of the flat, John following closely at his heels. Lestrade sighed before shouting out orders to the forensics team. 

When they arrived back at home that evening, both tired and exhausted after a long day of case solving and interrogation. They hung up their coats by the front door, and slowly walked up the stairs to their flat, hand in hand. John reached the top step and turned around, Sherlock still standing on the stairs. He gripped Sherlock’s suit and pulled him into his own body, kissing him deep and slow. Sherlock moaned low against John’s tongue and it made shivers run down John’s spine. They both pulled slightly away, their lips still touching. 

“I love you,” John whispered, his lips barely moving against Sherlock’s. Sherlock giggled. 

“I love you too.”

They dragged each other inside to the living room, Sherlock beginning to take off his suit jacket and rolling up his sleeves. 

John laid down on the sofa and took a deep breath. 

“I can’t believe that the whole case was an accident.” He looked over at Sherlock. The detective walked slowly over to him and sat down on the edge. 

“It is a weird coincidence that your date is a beekeeper and you happen to be allergic,” Sherlock shrugged. 

“I still don’t understand why her date left the house when she died. He should’ve just called the ambulance.” John opened his arms for Sherlock to settle on top of him. 

“I guess panick makes us all do weird things.” 

John chuckled. “Still a shame she died though.”

Sherlock cradled himself into the juncture of John’s neck and snaked his arms around his boyfriend’s waist. “Accidents happen,” Sherlock said, “unfortunately.”

John sighed. He kissed the top of Sherlock’s curls and then his forehead. Sherlock strengthened his hold on him, melting into his body. Slowly, John closed his eyes and let the warmth of Sherlock fill his body.

  
  


ii

John woke up to an empty bed, the warmth of Sherlock’s body still lingering in the spot beside him. He turned towards the door, Sherlock’s favorite robe nowhere to be seen. Still at home then. John padded out of the bed and over to the door where Sherlock’s red robe hung. He put it on and continued down into the sitting room where Sherlock lay on the sofa, his laptop open on his stomach. John walked over and pressed himself between Sherlock and the back of the sofa, almost making Sherlock fall out. Sherlock lay down the laptop on the floor and wrapped his arms around his boyfriend. 

“Good morning,” John said and kissed Sherlock softly on his lips. That made Sherlock wrap his arms tighter around John and John chuckled. He kissed under Sherlock’s jaw which made Sherlock giggle and squirm. John continued kissing wet kisses all over his neck until Sherlock was heaving for his breath after laughing too much. He climbed on top of him, straddling Sherlock lap as Sherlock tried to catch his breath. John lay down and tucked his head under his boyfriend’s jaw. Before he was able to fully settle into Sherlock’s body, he was lifted and turned, now laying on his back under Sherlock. 

“You’re not gonna get away that easy,” Sherlock teased and crept lower, opening up John’s robe and pulling up his t-shirt. Putting a chill hand on John’s exposed stomach he lowered his mouth beside John’s navel. John’s eyes were dark as he looked down on Sherlock, a hand in his curls. Sherlock breathed in and then blew all the air out, making (a farting sound against John’s stomach) the skin on John’s stomach vibrate. Sherlock held him down as he continued to blow against his stomach, and John let out a high pitched scream, squiggling under Sherlock’s hands. Both men giggled like small kids, their laughs filling the room. 

“Yoo hoo!” Mrs. Hudson had appeared by the door and was looking at them with a fond smile on her face. John felt the blood rushing to his face, a little embarrassed to be found like this by their landlady. Not that she hadn’t heard worse. Sherlock rose and straightened his robe before walking off into the kitchen.

“Tea, Mrs. Hudson?” he asked from the kitchen, the sound of the kettle being put on reaching the living room. 

“Yes, thank you Sherlock.” 

John stood up, clearing his throat, and followed Mrs. Hudson into the kitchen. The three of them sat around the table, and when the kettle finished Sherlock stood up to pour the tea. He brought the mugs over and Mrs. Hudson took a sip before she started talking. 

“I was thinking we could make mince pies today.” She took another sip from her tea. “I want to pass on my recipe.”

John sighed and looked at her lovingly. He took her hand and said, “Mrs. Hudson, that’s so kind of you, and it means a lot to us. Right Sherlock?” He glanced up at him. Sherlock cleared his throat and blinked a couple of times.

“Yes, yes of course, we appreciate it very much.”

Mrs. Hudson smiled. She finished her cup and stood up.

“I’ll get the ingredients from downstairs, and until I come back up you boys can get dressed,” she said and walked out the door to the stairs. “And thanks for the cuppa Sherlock.”

When Mrs. Hudson came upstairs again, she found the two men pressed up against the counter, giving each other small kisses and giggling. At least they were now wearing something more modest. She put down the ingredients and put on her apron. Sherlock and John put on theirs and rolled up their sleeves, ready to start baking.

Halfway in Mrs. Hudson realized she forgot to bring up the apples. John volunteered to run downstairs and get them. 

“Mrs. Hudson?” Sherlock said quietly beside her, continuing to fold the pastry together. 

“Yes dear?” She stopped mixing the mincemeat and looked up at him. 

“What do you think about John and I getting married?” he almost whispered. 

“Oh, that’s lovely!” She turned back to her mincemeat. “Are you planning on proposing?”

Sherlock stopped folding the pastry and put it into a bowl. “I don’t know yet,” he huffed. Placing the pastry in the fridge he said, “I don’t know if John wants me to.” He turned and ran a hand through his hair, leaving white streaks of flour.

“Sherlock dear, you got nothing to fear. John loves you very much, I see it in his eyes every time someone just mentions you.” Mrs. Hudson took Sherlock’s hands between hers and they locked eyes. “I know you will be very happy together.” Sherlock smiled softly back at her, his eyes shining at her words.

When they heard John’s steps on the stairs they parted acting as if nothing had happened. John entered with two apples in his hands and placed them on the cutting board. He looked over at Sherlock and laughed when he saw the flour in his hair. 

“You got flour in your hair idiot,” John said fondly. Sherlock grinned and bowed his head letting John brush it out. After carding his fingers through Sherlock’s hair, John pressed a kiss against Sherlock’s jaw and went back to the cutting board.

The mince pies turned out delicious, and Mrs. Hudson suspects that it was because they were made with love.

  
  


iii

“John,” 

Sherlock said and rubbed his thumb over his cheekbone. “John, wake up.”

John slowly opened his eyes and smiled when he saw Sherlock’s face. He pushed himself up to give Sherlock a peck on the lips before laying back down and snuggling into the thick duvet. Sherlock climbed on top of him and ripped off the duvet. 

“John come on, we’re going to visit Mummy today.” Sherlock dragged a shivering John out of bed. John plastered himself against Sherlock’s back, trying to get as much warmth as possible. He gave Sherlock’s neck a wet kiss before walking over to the closet to get dressed. Silently they dressed, side by side, before walking into the kitchen to make tea. While waiting for the water to boil, Sherlock pressed John against the counter. John wrapped his arms around the thin frame, hiding his face under Sherlock’s jaw. They drank their tea and cleaned up fast before putting on their coats and starting the drive to the country house. 

Mummy stood at the door, ready to welcome them as Sherlock pulled up the driveway. She gave both Sherlock and John long hugs. 

As they followed her inside, John tried to make small talk with her, but just like her son she wasn't interested in that. She wanted to talk about the cases, and their relationship and how it was going. 

At first, when they arrived, John and Sherlock had sat down by the table, but Mummy Holmes was quick to make them work. The ham was already in the oven, but the vegetables needed to be cut and potatoes needed to be peeled.

Sherlock and John started peeling the potatoes, giggling every now and then when a small piece of potato peel would hit the other in the face. Sherlock flicked a peel right down the back of John’s neck and John let out a squeak. Sherlock took the opportunity to make out with John's neck, and John tried not to laugh, but failed miserably. Mummy looked at them endearingly, thinking about how she used to be just like that. 

After peeling half of the potatoes Sherlock headed to the loo. As Sherlock was out of sight, Mrs. Holmes took his place beside John and started to peel one of the potatoes. 

“So, John,” she started. John tried not to seem nervous, he knew what was about to come. “Are you happy?”

John was taken by surprise. This was not what he was expecting. 

“Yes, I am,” he answered and smiled at the thought of Sherlock. “When I wake up, he’s the first thing I see and my heart just fills with this warm feeling, and I couldn’t wish for more.” John turned and looked at Mummy. She smiled back at him. Silently they kept peeling potatoes. 

“I want to marry him,” John exclaimed out. Mummy grinned and put down the potato she was holding. She took John by the elbow and led him to the table. 

“I was always scared that Sherlock would die young and alone. His own brain killing him, not wanting to admit to having feelings. But then you came along. And I’ve never seen Sherlock happier than he is with you.” Mummy gripped his hand and squeezed it. “I wish you a very long and happy marriage John.”

John sniffed and brushed away the tear that ran down his cheek. “Thank you,” he said, his voice breaking. He rose and went in for a hug, pressing her tight against his body before giving her cheek a kiss. They parted and went back to their work. Sherlock came back down and they finished making the dinner. 

On the drive home John smiled secretly to himself, keeping a hand on Sherlock's thigh the whole ride. 

  
  


iv

John wiggled a little to the side but didn’t get far because of Sherlock pulling him back to bed. He let himself be pushed into bed again and Sherlock snuggled up tight against his side. Sherlock hummed, his chest vibrating against John’s. John smiled into Sherlock’s curls, and pulled him closer. Sherlock was like a heater so John wrapped the duvet a little tighter around them to keep the warmth. He felt Sherlock’s warm breath tickling against his neck. John’s fingers were carding through his hair, his other hand running slowly up and down his spine. His mouth was hidden in Sherlock’s curls, and into it he whispered I love you, over and over again. After a couple of minutes Sherlock started to fully wake up. He looked up at John and kissed him slowly. 

“Good morning handsome.” Another kiss. 

John grinned against Sherlock’s lips. Sherlock gave him a last peck, then another before climbing out of the bed, heading to the bathroom. When he came back he put on his pyjama pants and an old t-shirt. John lay on his side and put his head in his hand to watch Sherlock dress. He smiled to himself. 

When Sherlock finished pulling in the t-shirt he looked back at John with confusion.

“Marry me,” John blurted out. Sherlock froze. He didn’t answer for a minute and John was getting nervous. He scrambled off the bed, and reached for Sherlock’s hand. Before he could take it Sherlock moved to the nightstand and opened up the top drawer. From there he pulled out a dark blue box; a small box made for a ring. John laughed out loud and went to his nightstand on the other side of the bed. Inside his own drawer he took out the small box with the ring he had bought to Sherlock. Sherlock started chuckling and met John halfway on the bed, both kneeling. John took out the ring for Sherlock and put it on Sherlock’s left ring finger. Then Sherlock slid John’s ring onto his finger. John put his hand on Sherlock’s waist and pulled him closer, their foreheads touching. Sherlock brought his hand to John’s cheek, and John felt the cold metal of the ring against his skin. He smiled and looked into Sherlock’s glinting eyes, now light green. 

“I can’t wait to marry you,” Sherlock said, making John chuckle. Slowly he brought his lips to John’s; a new chapter of their life starting with that kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, and once again, merry Christmas!


End file.
